Teen streams video of Dad while he is having a heart attack on Facebook Live. The young man makes no apologies. He says he wants the public to see what it’s like living in a home with a parent who doesn’t listen to doctors, continues to eat poorly, and refuses to exercise. So when his father had yet another “episode” as he puts it, Markus Adams decided to pick up his phone to record instead of dialing 911.

“You can hear his friends in the background making comments like ” eat another twinkie or bet you wish you exercised now.” One of the teens in the house did call 911 after several minutes passed.”

The first responder on the scene was a police officer who also decided to snap a few shots of the man who by this point had lost consciousness. Once the EMT’s arrived on the scene, the patient was rushed to the hospital where he made a full recovery.

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The hospital released a statement saying: these overweight patients typically have Type 2 Diabetes as well as Heart Disease. They have noticed that as soon these patients are stabilized they get up and leave the hospital. An ER Doctor said the most concerning thing to him is that these overweight Diabetics with Heart Disease are stopping at the snack machines before they even make it out of the hospital.

Even after almost dying because of the choices they continue to make regarding nutrition, exercise, medication maintenance these food junkies make those same decisions. These Junk Food Junkies practically run across the threshold of the hospital, so they can continue smoking after being told time and again that if they continue, they will die.

How do you feel about this story? Is it right for anyone to record a medical emergency? What do you think about Police Officers taking photos of people that are in danger of dying instead of administering care and comfort at the very least until backup arrives?

We don’t see photos or stories like the one told above online or on our evening news because it’s wrong to exploit people who find themselves in a life or death situation due to a disease. Unless of course, the person being photographed or videotaped suffers from Substance Use Disorder and is merely dying of an overdose.

When people make excuses for mistreatment of individuals with Substance Use Disorder one of their favorite arguments is the “it’s a choice.” What about the person with Type 2 Diabetes that refuses to stop smoking, drinking, eating cake pops and who’s idea of exercise is walking to the fridge?

The hurtful words used in this article were only used to give an example of the harsh tones and words used when speaking about not only those who suffer from Substance Use Disorder but also when speaking to those who love someone with Substance Use Disorder. It just goes to show that words hurt.

No matter what your opinion on Substance Use Disorder, it’s wrong to take photos and videos of people who are in need of medical care. There is no doubt about that; wrong is wrong.

Note: The beginning of this story is fiction. I also wish I didn’t need to use the awful terms I used to describe people who struggle with their weight but I felt it was necessary to drive home how individuals who have Substance Use Disorder are minimized and shamed in everyday conversation. Please know I don’t use these terms and don’t think it is right to be mean to anyone.

Losing one child to an overdose is devastating, imagine losing your third. Jeanmarie McCauley is having to bury her third son, Jesse. In the go fund me summary they wrote:

I can’t believe that I am having to do this again. Jeanmarie McCauleyis having to bury her third child, Jesse. He was a big-hearted kid who was so lost after both of his brothers died. He went to Florida to try and get his life back. Sadly, he did not make it. I can’t imagine the pain she and the rest of the family are in. She has to come up with the burial expenses as well as the added cost of bringing him back from Florida. She wants to have the three brothers together in their final resting place. We would be so grateful for any help. No mother should have to go through this. She and her family appreciate all the love and support they have received.

If this story is not proof that our Country is in the midst of an epidemic, what more will it take? It was only a few months ago that a mother that runs the page I HATE HEROIN, on Facebook lost two of her sons in the same night. Both of these mothers are fighters that actively fight to spread the word about this epidemic in hopes that no other mother will have to endure the pain of having a child who suffers from Substance Use Disorder, much less losing a one.

When this happens to families that are knowledgeable about this illness and actively fighting it, it just goes to show how powerful it truly is. So what does that mean? It means that we as Mothers and Fathers cannot do this alone. We need the full support of our police forces, judges, politicians, and communities.

When one of our loved ones gets picked up for possession or petty theft and it’s evident to the arresting officer that they are using opiates that person needs to be taken into custody. Not just for a few hours until they are let back out to wait for court. The presiding judge needs to look over his podium and imagine it’s their child standing in front of them. They need to recognize that this is their chance to possibly save a life.

Why can’t they be held until a bed somewhere can be found? We know if they are released that the first thing they will do is whatever it takes to get high. They can’t help it, it’s a disease. So that means if they have to steal something out of your garage or sell their bodies they will make the money it takes to feed the disease that is doing everything in its power to kill them. If the judge knew they were going to leave and commit suicide they wouldn’t let them go. What is the difference?

The politicians need to pass laws that make it possible for judges and police officers to take advantage of these opportunities to save our loved one’s lives. I know this is America and typically we allow adults to make mistakes and then learn on their own from them. This isn’t the same. Many of these people won’t get the chance to learn from their mistakes, they don’t live long enough to. Don’t you see, this isn’t like smoking pot, doing a line or having a drink? You don’t have two, three or five years to screw up and decide that you want to get clean. With the Fentanyl and now Carfentanil every single time they use might be their last.

Three beautiful young men, all from the same family are just gone. It’s not the leading story on the news and the comments below this story will include horrible judgment and hate. All because these beautiful young men have a disease that people have decided makes them less than. I can promise you this. Those boys were loved, their lives mattered and their families feelings matter. Please, take a stand. If you love someone who suffers from Substance Use Disorder don’t be scared to speak out. You hold the keys, all of you. If we all stand together and tell our stories we can stomp out this stigma and force the public to take notice. Those of us who fight every day need you. Together we can make a change.

Please give to the go fund me for this family and if you can’t afford to give you can surely share.

Update: Thank you for your generous donations, please keep them coming for this family. Because of all of you this mother might get to bring her son back home from Florida and allow him to rest beside the brothers he loved so much in life. Every little bit helps.

Today’s guest blogger, Benny Emerling, got sober at 19. It’s valuable for parents and professionals to have this perspective in mind when working with young people. MWM

As a young kid, I always felt like everyone around me was given a golden textbook on life. Mine must have gotten lost in the mail. I was different, but not an outcast, in fact. quite the opposite. I had many friends, a loving family and a decently smart head on my shoulders. However, my idea of fun was different from most of my peers. Misbehaving, stealing and bullying were some of my favorite activities. I was always a happy jokester and had a smile on my face the majority of the time.

Having three older sisters and a younger brother, it was easy to slip through the cracks and get away with murder. In middle school, my behavior got worse and worse. I grew up in a primarily Jewish area, so when I was in seventh grade every weekend we had a bar or bat mitzvah party to go to. Virtually, every weekend there was a different elaborate party to go to. After a couple, I noticed the adults at the parties drinking. Curiosity grew inside me, it looked awesome. It was not long before I tried drinking.

I was 13, one of my friends at the time made me a delicious alcoholic beverage. By delicious, I mean repulsive, it was a combination of anything he could grab off the adult tables. This included wine, beer, a shot and a mixed drink. It was the most disgusting beverage I had ever had but at the same time the best. I felt the buzz of alcohol for the first time in my life and I was instantly ready for more.

Drinking at these parties became the norm for me and a couple of friends. Weirdly enough, none of us ever got caught. Then the summer hit, growing up every year I went to sleep away camp in Northern Michigan. And this year at summer camp was monumental, one of my cabin mates brought weed to camp with him and I smoke it for the first time. Drinking was a blast, but weed was a different type of fun. I finally found the missing piece to my life, and it was drugs. After my first experience getting high, I never wanted to be sober.

I became a huge pothead by ninth grade. I had drug hookups because my sister was older, and I was friends with kids who sold pot, among other drugs. Smoking weed became an everyday habit before school, at lunch, sometimes between classes, and always after school. Weed took over my life. I quit all after school activities I once did because it got in the way of me smoking weed.

Smoking weed is an expensive habit, so how could I afford it? I stole, manipulated, worked little jobs and sold drugs.

My first job was at an elite men’s fashion store that sold thousand dollar suits and top of the line shoes. I couldn’t stop smoke weed and I dabbled a little with taking prescription pills. I didn’t want to get fired, especially because of speculation about me being high at work was on the rise. I came up with what I thought was a brilliant lie: I told my boss who knew my stepmom that I was allergic to wool and that was why my eyes were constantly bloodshot.

I didn’t last long at this job, to say the least. I picked up a caddying job that summer, but no money compared to selling pills. So after a couple of months I made my money exclusively selling prescription pills and little amounts of weed. My supplier? My family. Members of family were prescribed prescription pills for medical reasons. I looked at these pills as dollar signs. My family gained suspicion. They knew I didn’t have a job, but they also knew I had a lot of money. Oh yeah, and all of the pills in the house were missing.

It didn’t take long for my parents to catch me red-handed. I was forced to take my first drug test, which I failed miserably.

It was then my parents started looking up local rehabilitation centers. When I was 16, I was put into my first outpatient treatment center. I was told I had to stay sober and there would be drug tests once a week. I tried to stay clean for about a month and decided it wasn’t for me.

My high school career could be summed up pretty easily, I got high and partied, then ended up in outpatient treatment. Maintained decent grades and did what I wanted, when I wanted—I thought it was the greatest time of my life. However, I knew the best years were still to come…college.

I chose to go to the biggest party college I got accepted to. The first couple of weeks were exactly how I wanted them to be. Huge parties every day, drugs whenever I wanted, and unlimited freedom to do whatever I wanted, without any consequences.Or so I thought…

The fun lasted about two months then I hit what most people would consider a bottom. I didn’t sleep, eat, go to class, and barely left my dorm room for five consecutive days. I ended up going insane from all of the Adderall I took, and it wasn’t long before I overdosed and ended up in the psych-ward.

By this time I hadn’t talked to my families in over a month, and everyone assumed I was either dead or in jail. My close friends stopped calling me because I betrayed all of them in one way or another and I was basically alone, miserable and physically and mentally broken.

I remember the exact moment when I realized I needed help and that I needed to get sober.

I was sitting in the psych-ward, I hadn’t slept for two days straight, and then I looked in the mirror. I was 40 pounds underweight, my eyes were sunk into my face and my body was bruised up from trying escape the hospital. At that very moment, I made the decision to get sober.

What’s It Like Now?

This was over six years ago. I was 19 when I admitted myself into treatment. I thought my rehab stay was only going to be three months, but I ended up needing a nine month stay. Rehab was great because I learned how to be a human again. I learned how to maintain relationships, grocery shop and take care of myself. I was taken to AA meetings and I actually learned from them and received hope from them.

I finally started feeling good for the first time in over six years.

After my rehab stay I moved back home. My mom was very skeptical of me living in the house because my teenage years were a disaster. I assured her that no matter what, I will not use, steal or lie to her. She slowly began to trust me again, which I never thought possible. I started paying back the people I owed money to, and I kept up with AA meetings. It didn’t take long before I found a friend group, all young, sober adults.

I realized the more meetings I went to, the more I hung out with my sober friends and the more time I spent helping others, the less I obsessed about myself or getting high. It was an incredible realization, for over five years, every waking moment I thought about my next fix and how I was going to achieve it. But after I came to terms with the fact that I will never be able to use like a normal person, my life was shot into what I call the fourth-dimension.

I got sober when I was 19, I am currently 25 years-old and couldn’t be in a better place.

The disease of addiction took me to the darkest world imaginable, but at the same time blessed me with an amazing one at the same time. Suffering from addiction has made me a better person. I wake up every day knowing that as long as I stay sober, I can accomplish anything.

Guest blog posts are welcome additions to the content on this website. Guest blog posts represent the views, opinions and experiences of the author and do not necessarily represent Our Young Addicts. Together, we provide parents and professionals with a variety of perspectives and information.

Recently I read an eye-opening comment. The woman mentioned that every news story about heroin has the picture of a dirty spoon, dirty house or some stereotype that people often associate with heroin use. Yes, some heroin users use dirty spoons and don’t keep their homes spic and span. The problem with these photos is that it perpetuates the mindset that, this is how heroin use always looks.

Let me explain why this is an issue. Let’s say a young lady is getting ready to a party and sees a story on the news or online about heroin. In the story the users look like they haven’t taken a bath in a month, the room they are using in is in an abandoned home and things look pretty dire. The young woman, of course, sees this and takes a mental note. If we are lucky right?

When she gets to the party and has had a few drinks she gets offered heroin. The person offering it is a clean cut, handsome guy that has a nice home. Her mind will go back to that News story but in front of her is walking, talking, breathing, proof, that those things don’t happen to everyone. Those people don’t know when to stop, but he does…what can’t she?

This is a perfect example of how teenagers and young adults take that first step into heroin addiction.

Our News organizations need to do a better job of reporting on this epidemic instead of fanning the flames of the already deadly stigma that comes with heroin addiction.

Holy Addiction and Heroin Bulletin are asking everyone that reads this article to reach out to your favorite News stations and speak up. Tell them that it is wrong to use needles and dirty spoons in every News story. Tell them that heroin doesn’t discriminate but with the photos of only dirty spoons and people that portray only the depths addiction can take you they are doing the public a disservice. Those who will be mislead the most are our children.

There should be photos of silver spoons and well-dressed people in these photos because when that young lady gets offered heroin for the first time, she needs to be able to recognize that misery isn’t always dirty. Sometimes it comes in familiar settings and could be offered by beautiful people.